


Whispers of the Night

by CMAeris



Series: World with Two Sons [6]
Category: Batman (Comics), Batman Beyond, Justice League & Justice League Unlimited (Cartoons)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fusion, Drama, Family
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-08-24
Updated: 2012-12-21
Packaged: 2017-11-12 18:54:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,226
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/494544
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CMAeris/pseuds/CMAeris
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes a consolation prize is just not enough. Dare to make it better?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Return of the Night

**Author's Note:**

> Part Three to Sons of the Night

                  Clark has seen many things in his life and to tell the truth, not many of them are pleasant. One would think being taught and raised in a small town in the middle of nowhere would mean there aren’t many horrors to be seen. That would be true if he wasn’t the last son of an alien race. Fortunately it was a loving and kind earth couple that took him in. Had it been anyone else… he would rather not think about it.

                  Learning his origins, coping with his powers, he found himself alone in the world…. Even as he met others with powers, made friends with people he would never had as Clark, he couldn’t say he trusted anyone with his life.

                  Until he met him, the dark knight, the Batman.

                  Never before was there a man equal to him. Sure, others have taken him down, weakened him and nearly killed him, but none could match this man. Bruce Wayne didn’t need to be Batman to destroy him; he could easily do so outside of his costume as well as in. He was the only man Clark trusted to take him down on the off chance he becomes rogue and decides to destroy what he swore to protect.

                  It was hard to believe Batman was only human. One so capable and confident was in reality only a fragile mortal. He had no protection from invulnerability, nor the speed and strength Superman possessed. Each time he was hurt, Clark was harshly woken to the reality that Bruce could die. Yet, with time, he would forget until the next time.

                  He never thought that next time would be the man’s death… trying to save him of all things!

                  The funeral was a simple affair with only the closest family and friends. Bruce’s sons grieve in silence, in sorrow. Clark personally thought the funeral should have been grander to show his friend’s greatness.

                  Yet, the man’s youngest son, Terry, adamantly protest against such celebrations. It was painful for Clark to see how much the child was like his father and much more when the boy died only a mere week later. He felt so helpless as he watched Batman’s family tear itself apart. He could do nothing as they rage war against one another for the mantle of Batman, clamoring for the right to protect Gotham in place of Bruce.

                  Then it happened, the blackest night.

                  Through the power of the Black Lanterns, the dead returned. Fallen heroes attacked those they loved and died to protect, becoming the very monsters they sworn against. Even so, nothing matched seeing Batman once again and as a walking corpse.  

                  The disfigured face, the decrepit voice, his friend was a monster. The shock was enough to take and turn him into a Black Lantern. He felt every emotion surging through those around him and plummeted him into the cold darkness. He thought it was the end, but then a glimmer of light latched on. It felt as if an old friend brought him back and when his eyes opened, he found himself as a White Lantern.

                  He stood before Nekron, the dark entity that lead the Black Lanterns. Alongside him were others just the same. The warmth, the sweet gentleness of the light was almost enough to reassure him that everything was going to be all right.

                  One by one, the White Lanterns restored the fallen heroes to life. Nekron’s army dwindled away with each revival. Yet, as the battle drew to the end, the light began slipping from his grasp. He clung onto the power desperately. Everyone directed their attacks to Nekron in hopes of annihilating the monster and saving the world. However, Clark had instead used the last of his White Lantern powers elsewhere.

                  There was one person he wanted to return to the world and he dared not revive him on the battlefield less he try to save the world again and get himself killed. Instead, Clark sent his much missed friend to his Fortress of Solitude and lost the last of the White Lantern’s powers.

                  It was torture, not knowing if they would beat Nekron, not knowing if reviving his friend was the wrong decision. He held his breath as they watched Nekron fall. Would the monster rise again? Was he finally defeated? The last rasp of breath slipped from the monster’s mouth before he stilled.

                  They had won.

                  The world rejoiced, but Clark was in no mood to join their celebrations. The instant he was not needed, the man of steel sped off towards the Fortress of Solitude. There he found Bruce slumbering peacefully with his steady breaths and strong beating heart.

                  Unable to contain his excitement, he hurried to his computer to share the news and the first to answer was Batman’s exhausted successor, Dick Grayson.

                  “Hey Dick.” Clark attempted to contain his glee.

                  “…Hi Clark.” The new Batman smiled weakly at him. “You guys won right?”

                  The man of steel nodded. “I found Bruce.”

                  Dick’s weary smile didn’t change. “Thanks. I’ll come pick up the skull when I get a chance.”

                  “No, no!” Clark paused before rephrasing his words. “I mean, you’ve all been through enough. I’ll bring him back. It’s the least I can do.”

                  Dick nodded slowly. “I’ll tell Alfred and Dami about it. Do you mind if I log off? It’s been a long night.”

                  “No problem. You deserve the rest. Take care.” As soon as the connection ended a violent blow drove into the side of his head rendering him unconscious.

 

o.o.o.o.o

                  Bruce narrowed his eyes as Superman slumped to the ground. The Kryptonite bat was returned to its lead-lined casing as he surveyed the situation. The last he remembered was falling to Darksied’s Omega Beam. Waking up in the icy fortress was the last thing he expected. He had recognized the familiar corridors when he first woke, but he couldn’t be certain if it was still the same as he last remembered.

                  So he did the only thing sensible, raided the armory and armed himself. When he made his way through the fortress earlier, Superman’s robots made no move to hinder him as if he was supposed to be there. It made him wary to what the man of steel have done to revive him. Was he that foolish to throw him in the Lazarous Pits? Or have he done something worse to bring about his revival?

                  Whatever the means, he needed information. How long was he gone? What has changed since then? So many questions, so little time.

                  Scouring the fortress’s computers, Bruce found that three years had passed since his death. While there were plenty to read on the rest of the world, there was little to be found on Gotham. The information regarding Gotham was simply left empty. When the computers flared with Superman’s arrival, he had no choice but to feign sleep until the man let down his guard.

                  Superman had no clue that he was awake or even aware with hi controlled heart rate and breathing. With his eyes still closed, Bruce could hear the excitement in the other man as he hurried to the computers. When he had heard Dick’s weary voice, he was concerned. The conversation between the two was confusing. What’s this about winning? Was there another crisis while he was gone? And what does it have to do with his skull? What have they done?

                  He had to know. At the first instant Superman was off guard, he had taken the kryptonite bat and plowed it into the side of the man’s head. Bruce made quick work after the man of steel was down. He left a small piece of kryptonite in case the man recovered too quickly. He needed him unconscious until he returned. With Superman out of commission, he stripped the man of his costume and drew a blanket over his bare form. Mussing up his hair, he carefully combed it to a replica of Superman’s spit curl and masked his features with expert dollop of make-up. Donning on Superman’s costume, he made his way through the fortress and found a row of skeletons all dressed in his costume.

                  The dark knight frowned, Clark had much to answer for when he returns, but nonetheless he grabbed a skull and wrapped it in cloth. Making his way out of the fortress Bruce contacted the Watch Tower while mimicking Superman’s voice.  

                  “Superman to Watch Tower. One for pick up.” He ordered before he felt the familiar draw of the zeta beam pulling him up into space. He traded little words with Mr. Terrific before making an excuse to beam down to the manor.

                  A blanket of gloom clouded his home it was darker than he remembered. Bruce made his way across the lawn before spotting Ace trotting towards him. The hound seemed excited to see him, but somehow the dog lost his cheery step. He knelt down to pet Ace’s head when the dog whimpered and whined pathetically.

                  What happened?

                  Ace tugged on his red cape, dragging him along. He followed the hound a small distance away before finding two small bat ornaments behind two deep trenches. It looks as if a grave was in place not long ago, but his eyes lingered on the smaller grave. His heart clenched at the possibilities. He made his way back to the manor and knocked, wary of what he would find.

                  The door opened peaked open and the cautious cold blue eyes of his son glanced out. The boy looked disappointed as a bored scowl crossed his face. “We’re not interested in buying cookies from big blue boy scouts.” He tried closing the door, but Bruce was quick to wedge his foot in.

                  “Damian right?” He mimicked Superman’s voice as he gentled pushed his way in.

                  His son made no effort to push back; it was pointless considering he was supposed to be Superman at the moment. Damian crossed his arms. “What do you want Superman? Don’t you have damsels to save back in your city?”

                  Bruce gave a sad smile from how he was carrying himself, he could tell Damian was hurt. “I’m just here to return something to your family. I’ll be leaving after that.”

                  “… Returning something?” Damian frowned.

                  Bruce brushed aside his red cape and presented him with the clothed skull. Dick had mentioned it was supposed to be his skull. They had no clue he was alive. “Sorry it took so long to return this to you and your family. I had some difficulty looking for it.”

                  Damian’s interest peaked as he reached out with one hand and grabbed the bundle. The shape made him pause as he glanced up to Bruce with the most pained expression he had ever seen on his son’s face.

                  “I had some trouble finding it in the midst of all the other skulls that was with it.” Bruce lied as he watched the expressions change on the boy’s face. “But he’s back where he’s supposed to be now… with his family.”

                  Damian was unable to tear his eyes away from the skull as he carefully cradled it to his chest.

                  Bruce couldn’t tell him he was alive.“… I’ll leave you be.”

                  This pain, Damian will only become a better person and he couldn’t take that away.  And if he returned he couldn’t face them. Dick and Tim’s parents hadn’t and it would unfair. Just as he turned to leave, Damian quietly uttered something softly under his breath. While Bruce couldn’t hear him, he could read his lips.

                  A sad smile touched his lips as he replied. “You’re welcome.”

o.o.o.o.o

                  Clark groaned as he regained consciousness, but he felt weak. Groggily he opened his eyes and found a piece of kryptonite lingering inches from him. Weak, he tried to swat the rock away, but to no avail it was still there. The second thing he noticed was his nudity with only his underwear and a blanket to shield him from the cold.

                  “Ro…bot seven…” He croaked. His robot minion appeared immediately as he called.

                  “Yes Superman?” It greeted him.

                  “Kry-kryptonite.” He rasped out.

                  “Understood.” The robot replied as it went and removed the source of his weakness and pain.

                  Once the rock was removed, there was little else he could do. He had no spare costume around nor was there sun to rejuvenate him. It was winter in the arctic. For another six months there will only be darkness.

                  Bruce was nowhere in sight. No doubt he was already on his way doing whatever it was he does. At least he needn’t worry that Bruce might’ve returned demented or damaged. Had he been, Clark doubts that he’d be waking to a blanket. The man would’ve killed him, not leave him with a piece of kryptonite and a blanket to keep warm.

                  A shift in the air, speak of the devil. He waited seconds before a replica of himself stood before him. The man scowled with narrowing eyes. Clark could recognize his dear friend underneath that masterful disguise.

                  “What happened while I was gone?” Bruce demanded dangerously.

                  Clark couldn’t help but grin at the circumstances. “Welcome back Bruce.”


	2. It's for the Best

            “Bruce, it’s been a week! You have to tell them. You can’t just keep this from them. They have the right to know you’re alive!” Clark snapped at he stormed into one of the many the hidden bunkers outside of Gotham.

            “They’re doing fine without me.” Bruce retorted as he caught up on the news and the reports he missed out during his death and absence.

            “No, they’re not.” Clark’s voice dropped softly. “I know you’ve been watching them and trying to help however you can without them realizing, but can you see they’re in pain?”

            “They can work through the pain.” Bruce replied.

            The man of steel slammed his hands onto the table, cracking it as he did so. “Why should they have to work with the pain?” He snapped. “You’re well and alive! Why can’t you tell them that? Why make them think you’re dead? Why make them suffer?”

            “Why remind them of what they lost?” Bruce countered, startling Clark to look at him closely. “Why should I be able to return from the dead when others can’t? Why not Dick’s parents? Why not Tim’s? My return is a slap to their face, it will not soothe their pain.”

            Clark grew quiet. “I think it would do plenty.”

            Bruce shook his head. “If I returned now, I would have undone whatever progress they made during my absence.”

            “Progress?” Clark said in disbelief. “You’re not going home because of PROGRESS? I know you think of them as your little soldiers, but even for you this is cold! They’re your kids!”

            “I’ve never had a good track record as a father, have I?” Bruce quipped coldly. “When have I’ve ever been a good father? To _any_ of them? You’ve seen my failings and look what that brought them. I drove Dick away. I lead Jason to his death. I brought grief to Tim.”

            “Those were out of your control!” Clark argued.

            “I was their _guardian_. _I_ was supposed to keep them safe!” Bruce snapped. “Not to mention Damian and Terry. What have I done for them?”

            “You took them in!” Clark yelled back. “You cared! You loved them just as much as you loved Dick, Jason and Tim!”

            “What good is that when they get kidnapped? Tortured?” Bruce roared. “Because they share my blood, they’re in even more danger than Dick, Jason or Tim! Terry was catatonic for weeks after we retrieved him from Cadmus! They tortured and brainwashed him because he chose to side with me! He was willing to kill himself because he wasn’t willing kill me! Damian nearly died because Ras al Ghul wanted a body that has blood relation to the Wayne name. Don’t you see Clark? If it wasn’t for me, neither of them would’ve been placed in those situations!”

            “…But neither of them would be alive if it wasn’t for you either.” Clark spoke gently.

            The dark man grew silent.

            “Bruce.” He started softly. “I understand you don’t want any harm to come to them, but there are times where things are just out of your hands. You have to let it go.”

            “…Letting it go doesn’t change a thing.” Bruce replied quietly as he returned to his reading. “I’ve failed them… It’s best I stayed away.”

            “But—!” Clark protested.

            “Leave Clark.” He clipped coldly. “I’m done talking.”

            The man of steel stood for a moment longer before he turned to leave. “They’re not any more safer with you gone.”

            Bruce waited until he left before he slumped against his chair dejectedly with a hand covering his eyes. He couldn’t go back. Not when they’ve done so much to get this far.  Dick was finally getting comfortable being Batman. He did so much to get Gordon to accept him, to get Gotham to accept him. It was him that ended Gotham’s flames in his absence. He was everything Gotham needed and deserved.

            Tim was no longer in Gotham. He could only guess his third ward has finally moved on beyond Gotham. He carried a new name and was a hero by his own right. He was finally moving past his grief. If only Jason could do the same.

            Bruce gave a sigh at the thought of his second Robin. Time and time again, he failed him. He wasn’t there for his death. He wasn’t there for his rebirth and he wasn’t there when Jason needed him most. It was heart breaking to think what thoughts went through Jason’s mind before he decided to kill Terry.

            Terry… His mind didn’t want to linger on his youngest. The amount of agony and pain the poor boy went through… The man’s eyes closed tightly. He was able to do nothing. Terry was such a unique child; even in death he left a prominent mark in those who knew him. Surprisingly, the biggest was left in Damian.

            Bruce ran a hand down his face. Damian, his remaining son, where to begin with this child? When Talia first brought him to Gotham, he thought the child was nothing more than a nuisance, a distraction. He was loud, arrogant, disrespectful and most notably, angry. A complete opposite to Terry, who at the time he hadn’t known was his biological son. Compared to his youngest, he hadn’t spent much time with Damian, if at all.

            Regret touched his heart as he thought back to the day he returned home, disguised as Superman. The boy was so distant and cold, but compared to their first meeting; he was solemn, almost quiet. When he took a hold of the fake skull, Bruce felt his heart clench at the surprised and pained expression crossing Damian’s face. The boy wordlessly held it close to his chest as if it was the greatest treasure in the world.

            A shaking breath escaped Bruce as he composed himself. He cannot let himself linger in these thoughts. His sons have moved on without him and were improving even if it was slowly. He couldn’t take away that from them. The most he could do is watch from the shadows and discreetly help. It was for the best. 


End file.
